


Another Lifetime

by Tashakki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M, One Shot, One time short story, Short Story, one page
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashakki/pseuds/Tashakki
Summary: Dean Winchester tells his son a story about another lifetime.





	Another Lifetime

**January 2033**

Dean was looking out the kitchen’s glass wall seemingly lost in thought when Jack walked into the room. Jack stared at his father’s back for a minute or two, gathering up the courage to speak. On the one hand, he wanted to get this, whatever this was, over with, and on the other hand, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know what his father was about to say. He’d been in limbo, in as far as what his father thought, for a while now and he wasn’t sure knowing was going to make things better.

Dean stared at his son’s reflection, saw his son’s indecision and it broke his heart. Yet, he did nothing and waited for Jack to make the first move.

Jack cleared his throat before he said, “Why are you here?”

“Your house is very beautiful, very grown up and sophisticated,” Dean replied as he continued to look out the window.

“All Tommy, I had nothing to do with it really, but I’ll tell him you appreciate his work.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them brought on by the reminder of why things had become so screwed up. It lasted for a few seconds before Dean brought up the other reason the family was in shambles.

“Your mother said you guys moved in together.”

“Well, we aren’t getting any younger so we thought what the hell,” Jack replied morosely.

Dean laughed surprising Jack into motion. He moved away from the doorway and came to a stop at the kitchen counter still keeping distance between himself and his father.

Dean turned to look at him as he removed his leather jacket and draped it on one of the dining room chairs next to the window.

“You’re 29 kid, you’ve got years in front of you,” Dean said smiling.

He turned the chair toward his son and sat down; putting one of his hands on the table. He stared at Jack for a beat before he continued.

“Why are young people such Debbie Downers about getting closer to thirty? I had this co-worker, a long time ago, who was grumpy the whole week of his 30th birthday. He was miserable, and he wouldn’t shut up about it. One day I asked him, “What’s so bad about turning 30?” and do you know what he said, “I have to become an adult now. You can skate by when you’re in your 20’s but in your 30’s people expect more of you. They want to hear about things you’ve achieved.” He was so sad when he said it.”

Dean went silent and looked at something beyond Jack’s shoulder, appearing to stare at something in the distance, as if his mind had transported itself back to that moment.

“Dad?” Jack asked wondering what his father was going on about.

At 54, Dean Winchester was still devilishly handsome. He still turned heads even in the company of his son, Jack, who was almost a young replica. Jack had gotten most of his best attributes from his father or as his fiancé would say, “your dad just has this James Dean vibe that won’t quit and I’m so glad he gave that vibe to you.” Jack cleared his throat loudly and tried again, “Dad?”

His dad looked up at him and gestured to the chair across from him. “Why don’t you have a seat,” He said quietly. Jack hesitated for a few seconds before he sat down.

“What’s this about?” Jack asked once he was seated. It was almost 10 pm and he had a busy day tomorrow.

“I was 32 when I met him,” Dean answered jumping forward into the story as if Jack hadn’t spoken. “So you can imagine how much I didn’t appreciate his whining about turning 30. The guys and I showed him a good time that night, pub crawls, strippers, the whole nine yards.”

“Dad I don’t…”

“This is hard for me. Just…just let me finish,” Dean said as he lifted his hand in the air. He took a deep breath before he continued.

“I don’t really know when we became friends, I didn’t even notice when we started hanging out. It just happened. I would find myself less and less with my other friends and more and more with him. Soon enough, we fell into a pattern, since we were the youngest communication officers at work, we found ourselves working most nights. We had a deal if 7 pm came round and we were still in the office, we had to break out a bottle of something strong to make work more bearable. This meant, one of us had to sneak in a bottle of alcohol every day.

Eventually, it became our own little thing that we did on weeknights and we even stopped pretending it was about work. He’d tell these stories about his life before we met, and his whole face would light up. When he wasn’t telling one of his many stories, he was listening to mine. It didn’t matter what I talked about. As long as I was talking, he was listening. He used to look at me…” Dean’s voice faltered and he cleared his throat before he continued.

“When he looked at me, I felt important. He made it seem like whatever I was about to say was significant. He made me feel…adored. We went on like that for months until one Friday night, after a few too many, I found myself looking at his face and wondering how anyone’s eyes could be so blue,” Dean scoffed. “Sometimes I’d stare at him for such a long time that I would drown in those blue pools. By the time I’d come to my senses our faces would be inches from touching.

I never mentioned it, nor did he, although they’d always be a bit of awkwardness before we moved away from each other. It was usually at that point that one of us decided it was getting late and time to get home. Weeks turned into months and on a cold rainy night in August, while he was talking about something I can hardly remember I kissed him.”

Jack stared silently but said nothing.

“Kissing him felt like flying. In a singular moment of clarity, I was aware of what I had done, I was aware of our lips being joined in a kiss and I was aware of the happiness I felt. Pure undulated joy. For a moment, just a moment, I’d found heaven. And then reality came crashing down all around us.

I backed away from him so fast that I knocked something over and was vaguely aware of it falling to the floor. I tried to say something as I gathered my things but no sound would come out of my mouth. I barely remember how I got home that night.

The next day I called in sick and spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how I was going to earn money without ever going back to work. You see, I was already married with two kids.” Dean said wincing as if in pain. “I had you and I had your sister Samantha. There was no way…”

Jack watched as a range of emotions came over his father’s face, each trying to be the dominant one. He sat in silence and waited patiently as his father wrestled with his emotions. It was a long time before Dean spoke again.

“The weeks that followed were a blur but I remember applying for a transfer and a month later we moved to New York.”

“Did you say goodbye?” Jack asked quietly.

“We barely spoke and we’d stopped hanging out entirely by the time I was leaving. So, no.”

“Did you ever see each other again?”

“No, although about three years after we moved to New York, I bumped into Benny who told me that he’d moved to California not long after,” Dean let out a deep breath before continuing, “It took me a long time to come to terms with what had happened that night but by that time it was too late. I do regret not sticking around long enough to know whether he’d kissed me back.”

“Dad…”

“No. I think that’s enough of that. I came here to tell you that I don’t give a flying fuck who you love, as long as you’re happy.”

“Took you long enough,” Jack replied. It had been a month since he’d come out to his mother, who had promptly told him off and called him an embarrassment to the Winchester name.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean asked.

“I just assumed mum would tell you,” Jack said looking at his hands, “and maybe I wasn’t eager to relive the horror that was coming out to mum.”

“Your mother and I haven’t seen eye to eye in a long time.”

“Why did you wait a month to talk to me?”

“I was sulking. I was resentful and jealous.”

“What?”

“You’re the first person I’ve told this to. I’ve never even uttered the words,” Dean said before he fell silent. After a moment or two of silence, Dean said, “I’m jealous that you had the courage and the opportunity to do what I never could,” quietly extending his hand to lay it on top of Jack’s.

Staring intently into his son’s eyes Dean said, “You are my son and I love you. There isn’t a single thing you could do or be that would ever sour my love for you. I don’t care what your mum says. And she doesn't own the Winchester name.”

Jack gave a watery smile, “maybe next time don’t wait so long to say so.”

“Uh, maybe next time tell me yourself and don’t expect my ex-wife to deliver the message on time and with the right attitude,” Dean replied standing up and putting on his jacket. On his way-out Dean pulled Jack into his arms and whispered, “Would you say hi to Tommy for me?” waiting to feel Jack nod before letting go.

Just as Dean was about to leave, Jack asked, “What was his name?”

“Castiel, Castiel Novak.”

“Do you ever wonder?”

“All the time,” Dean replied and shut the door behind him.

***

**December 2034**

Dean was in his kitchen when he heard the phone ringing somewhere in the distance. It took about five minutes of overturning cushions, numerous swear words and a lot of turning in circles before he found his phone.

There were two missed calls from Jack who was spending Christmas with his husband’s family this year. Dean hadn’t expected to hear from any of his children after Thanksgiving, especially Samantha who was, according to her Whatsapp messages, having the time of her life skiing in the Alps. They would all, however, be back home in time for New Year's to spend time with him and their uncle Sam.

“Hey Kiddo,” Dean said.

“Hey dad,” Dean could tell Jack was smiling from his voice and he couldn’t help smiling too.

“What do I owe this pleasure?”

“Can’t a man just call his dad on Christmas Eve to wish him a Merry Christmas?”

“Ow shucks, did you miss me?”

Dean could just imagine the eye roll that had earned.

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Answer the door.”

“Wha…” Before Dean had even gotten the sentence out, he heard a knock at the door. “Do I dare ask?”

“It’s your Christmas present, from me and Tommy.”

“What is it?”

“Open the door and find out.”

Dean huffed as he started walking towards the door.

“And dad,”

“Yeah?”

“He kissed you back.”

“What? Who?” But Jack had already hung up.

Dean looked at his phone and scoffed putting it in his pocket as he pulled open the front door. There, standing on his front porch after 22 years was the man who owned the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen.

“Cas?” Dean whispered.

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
